


Just a Thought

by Experimental



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Companionable Snark, Developing Relationship, Friendship/Love, Gen, M/M, Partners to Lovers, Reconciliation, Reunions, Romantic Gestures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:49:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28586751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Experimental/pseuds/Experimental
Summary: They do say it's what counts.But Wufei would like to know just what Duo was thinking, meeting him at the spaceport with a big bouquet of flowers.
Relationships: Chang Wufei/Duo Maxwell, Trowa Barton & Chang Wufei
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22
Collections: GW Holiday Gift Exchange 2020





	Just a Thought

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Odamaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odamaki/gifts).



> I couldn't stick to one prompt. Two just went together so well, once entangled I couldn't untangle them again. I hope you see some of the things you wanted in here. ;) And thank you for trusting me with your wonderful prompts! Here's to a better year than the last one.

“You've got to be kidding me.”

There beyond the baggage carousels, among the chauffeurs waiting with their name placards and the first-time arrivals struggling to find their moon legs, is Maxwell, rocking on his heels like an eager puppy from behind a bouquet of enormous blue and white hyacinths.

At first sight of Wufei through the crowd, his grin goes lopsided. As if this could feel any more like a bad movie. Duo has no right to look so happy to see him. Not here, in the middle of baggage claim, in front of all these people.

But damn Maxwell and his contagious grin. He just can't make anything easy, can he?

“Tell me those aren't for me,” Wufei says.

If he'd blinked, he might have missed the slight falter in that grin. “Of course they're not for you. As if _I_ would buy _you_ flowers. Man,” Duo snorts, “how big does your ego have to be to think a guy shows up to meet you at the spaceport with flowers, they must be for you?”

“A simple 'no' would have sufficed.” That doesn't clear things up, though. “What are they for, then?”

“Well, we are going to that dedication tonight. I thought it might be a nice gesture to take something to lay. You know, in memory of the lives lost.”

Wufei has to give Duo credit for one thing: The guy can think on his feet. “That's a surprisingly thoughtful gesture, Maxwell. And they are Treize's colors.”

“See? There you go. That's exactly why I picked 'em out.”

“I'm just glad they're for the dedication ceremony and not for me,” Wufei says, watching Duo's face out of the corner of his eye. “I hate hyacinths.”

That, at last, does it for the grin. “You do?”

“I find the smell obnoxious.” And at Duo's crestfallen look: “You do know what I'm talking about, don't you?”

“I, uh, guess I hadn't really noticed—”

“Good. Then you won't mind holding on to them for me.” And with that, Wufei hefts his bag on his shoulder and strides past Duo toward the exit, eager to get upwind and clear his throat of its sudden tightness. “Which way to the rental?”

* * *

“So. Christmas Eve on the Moon.” With the last of the empty feed pails put away, Trowa accepted the cup of black coffee Wufei held out to him. “I'm almost jealous,” he said. “No one's ever invited _me_ to the Moon for Christmas Eve.”

He didn't have to say it like that. Like there was something improper about it.

“It's not what you're thinking.”

And Wufei knew precisely what he was thinking. The Lunar tourism board had done such a thorough job of connecting Christmas Eve and romantic dream getaways in the mind of every adult in the Earth Sphere, it was virtually impossible to disentangle the two again.

“I'm not even sure I'd call it a vacation,” Wufei said over his own cup, watching the steam curl in the brisk December air. “The anniversary of the armistice is the twenty-fourth,” as if Barton needed the reminder, “and it just so happens this year they're unveiling a new war memorial. Since we both planned to attend the dedication, we figured we might as well spend some time together afterwards.”

“Ah,” was Trowa's only response to that.

But when Wufei glanced over, Trowa was giving him that old sideways look of his. The one that said _I shovel enough shit for a living to know it when I hear it_.

“And the Moon is where you two met.” A slow sip. “Face to face, I mean.”

“If nearly asphyxiating together in the same cell is your idea of a meet-cute, then, sure, I guess that makes it special.”

“Except that wasn't on Christmas Eve.”

No, it wasn't. But what did that have to do with anything?

They walked back out into the fresh air, away from the smell of hay, electric heaters, and large mammals. The sun was just starting to come up, doing little to warm a bleak landscape. Usually the circus was in the colonies this time of year, taking advantage of their mild, climate-controlled winters, but an outbreak of equine strangles in the L3 cluster had set their tour schedule back.

Wufei was glad of the delay, as it gave him a chance to touch base with Trowa before the end of the year. Cathrine even made her traditional sun king soup and gingerbread animals a few weeks early just for his visit, surprising Wufei with a teal scarf she'd knitted him because “You might have everyone else fooled, mister, but I know not so deep down in there is a real softie.” Helping with the chores seemed like the very least Wufei could do to repay her generosity.

He had to wonder how the lions and elephants fared, though, if his inner ears were aching after just two days of this cold. Next time someone offered Wufei a pair of ear muffs, pride be damned, he would _not_ decline.

At least he had the scarf, and a hot cup of java between his hands to keep his fingers from freezing off. “My compliments to Cathrine on the coffee,” Wufei said, eager to move away from the subject of his plans for the twenty-fourth. “Grinding it fresh every time makes all the difference.”

“I'm surprised you can tell over all that cream and sugar.”

“Don't start with me, Barton. The guy who thinks it's perfectly acceptable to microwave the stuff that's been sitting out on his desk all day does not get to opine on how others take their coffee.”

Knowing there was nothing he could possibly say in his own defense, Trowa just laughed.

But if Wufei thought he could get away with changing the subject that easily, he was mistaken.

“I know it's none of my business,” Trowa said after a minute, “and that you guys have been careful not to put any labels on this thing. I respect that. But I'm glad you accepted his invitation. You're good for him, you know.” And before Wufei could utter any protests, “Don't take my word for it. Those are Chief Po's. I believe Director Une actually called you a 'grounding influence,' whatever that means. Even Hil—”

“Schbeiker talks to you about us?” Hell, were all their friends and colleagues discussing them behind their backs? Wufei felt the blood rush to his face and armpits at the thought. It was not the way he'd prefer to warm up.

“Well, she does know him better than anyone. God knows she's tried harder than anyone, too.” Trowa raised a brow. “Except maybe you.”

Wufei had to snort. Even if he knew what to say to that, that still didn't make his personal affairs any of Barton's business. Let alone their superiors'.

And yet, the longer Trowa let those words hang in the air between them, unbothered, the less Wufei could resist filling the silence that followed. If Trowa ever decided to come back to Preventer, Wufei had no doubt that preternatural ability of his to compel a confession would be put to great use.

“Yeah, well,” Wufei sighed into the frigid air, “I'm not even sure there's an 'us' to talk about. Not after our last assignment together.”

“Really? Way I heard it, the mission was a success.”

“The mission was fine. Everything went off without a hitch. It was . . . after.”

Wufei still remembered the choice words they traded. He wasn't sure it even qualified as a fight. Just a thoughtless joke, a bruised ego, and pretty soon each just had to wound the other as good as he got. They knew each other's pasts and weak spots well enough to avoid landing any lethal blows, but shallow cuts still added up. They couldn't help themselves. It was as if every time they started to feel like they might actually be going somewhere, they ran up against another red light.

Wufei didn't need a psych or a friend to tell him it was self-sabotage. Maybe they were just too alike. They'd both seen too many best-laid plans fall apart, when something came together easily—like they had—their instincts told them it was too good to be true.

But instincts could be mistaken.

As if reading Wufei's thoughts, Trowa said, “Have you two ever considered—I don't know—talking things out? It's just a thought.”

Last Wufei recalled, talking things out was what started their trouble. And since when did Barton use his words to _mend_ disputes? “Right. I'm sure you'd just love to lock us in a cell together until we've reconciled all our differences.”

“That's not a bad idea. It could be arranged.” And knowing Trowa, he was only half joking.

They were standing close enough that Wufei only had to lean into Trowa with his elbow to shove him back a step, but he'd have to do better than that if he wanted to throw a circus acrobat off his balance.

“You know, if I wanted your advice, I'd ask for it.”

“No you wouldn't.”

“No. I wouldn't.”

The first rays of the sun pouring through the naked trees vaporized what little bit of frost had accumulated on the ground and trailers, until the whole camp was lazily steaming like a mug of hot coffee. Sensing the change inside their respective tents, the horses whinnied to each other and the old lion roared a sun salutation.

“He's good for you, too,” Trowa said as they let those rays beam warmth back into their faces. “And that is me saying it.”

* * *

The lunar city sparkles with millions of tiny lights, festooning every awning, winding around the towering palm trees. Colored stars illuminate the open-air markets, while the window displays of high-end shops overflow with mottos of holiday cheer. There's even artificial snow for the last-minute shoppers and lovestruck couples who crowd the sidewalks, making the lights of the L1 colonies, just visible through the dome, seem to dance around the gibbous Earth.

An occasional flurry of the stuff drifts out over the road and lands on the windshield of their rental car, melting before it can accumulate and need to be wiped away. Even on 24 December, the Moon's environmental controls keep things just a little too warm for snow to stick.

Duo must be distracted, because he couldn't have found a slower route to their hotel if he tried. Traffic moves at a crawl, when it moves at all. At this point they'll be lucky if they have time to check in and change before dashing out the door again.

They've hardly said two words to each other since leaving the spaceport. Every now and then Duo whistles a few bars of the Christmas music being piped out into the streets for the shoppers, before catching himself and drumming his fingers on the wheel instead. The bouquet of obscenely large hyacinths sits on the arm rest between them, exuding new and peculiar scent notes in the circulating air.

Duo manages to get them through one intersection, only to slam on his brakes as the next light turns red.

That's when he can't keep it in any longer.

“Alright, I give up!” he groans. “The flowers were for you, okay? There, you dragged it out of me.”

“I knew it.” It's so like Maxwell, even seeing the confession coming from a mile away Wufei has to laugh, shake his head. “You know, for a guy who never lies, you sure do tell a lot of them.”

“Hey. I never said I was _incapable_ of lying.” But even Duo can't help a chuckle at his own expense. “I'm just really bad at it.”

“What in the world possessed you to surprise me with _flowers_?”

“I honestly don't know, man. Big romantic gestures are not my thing. I guess, when I got to the spaceport, I just started thinking about the way we'd left things. Sister Helen used to tell me 'never let the sun set on an argument,' and we sure let a lot of suns go down between us.”

That's a quaint way to put it, but it feels truer than anything else. Truer than this artificial twilight they've been living in for the past few months anyway, pretending everything between them was business-as-usual when they knew damn well it wasn't.

Wufei says nothing. When he looks over, the lopsided grin is back, along with a little extra color in Duo's cheeks.

“So there I was in arrivals with some extra time on my hands,” Duo carries on, glancing over at Wufei out of the corner of his eye every few seconds, “it's Christmas Eve and everyone's huggin' and bawlin' their eyes out, having these happy reunions all around me, and there's this flower shop in the concourse. So I'm thinking, why the hell not, right? We're entitled to some of that happiness too. So I ask the lady working there what you get someone to say 'I was an asshole, take me back?'—'cause, do I look like the kinda guy who knows the first thing about flowers? And she suggested—”

“Hyacinths.”

“Bingo. That was before I knew you hated them, of course.”

To be fair, they never quite got to the trading likes and dislikes stage of their relationship. Not formally, anyway. If that's the sort of thing people who would call what they have a relationship do formally.

“I don't actually hate them.” The smell _is_ annoying, but if Wufei's being honest, he really doesn't care what kind of flowers they are, one way or another. “It was a nice gesture. You just caught me by surprise—”

“I embarrassed you in public.”

“It was a nice gesture,” Wufei repeats, a little harder, at Duo's teasing. That is one fact he is not going to concede. At least, not out loud. “Here I thought I was going to be the one apologizing.”

“Yeah? Well, don't let me stop you. Knowing you, you probably brought notes, and I'd hate for those to go to waste.”

“Notes? What is this, amateur hour?” Wufei plays along. “I am a _professional,_ Maxwell. I've got a whole presentation prepared on my laptop.”

Duo laughs, but he's entirely serious when he says, “Maybe there's enough blame to divide between us.”

It feels good to acknowledge it out loud. To joke about it, talk about it. To know that translating these feelings into words doesn't have to lead to disaster by default. And there will be plenty of time to parse that blame at their own leisure. Maybe over chess and a fifth of Scotch, when they can finally settle into their hotel room, with no other obligations or places to be.

“But I'm still leaving the flowers at the dedication tonight,” Wufei says.

“I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm starting to see what you mean about the smell.”

Then Duo sobers, and finally twists in his seat to face Wufei fully. He might as well take his eyes off the road; they're not going anywhere.

“What do you say, Wufei?” he says, extending his right hand palm-up over the bouquet. “You wanna give this thing between us, whatever it is, another shot?”

There are a couple ways Wufei could take that hand. Reach across and brace it with his right in a hearty handshake, the kind exchanged by partners who have each other's backs come—as Duo likes to say—hell or high water. Or clasp it with his left, let their fingers weave together in something more intimate for both body and soul. After everything they've been through together, either one would be more than justified, but it feels like neither alone would be enough.

In the end, Wufei lets Duo's hand just sit there, upturned and empty. But full of endless promise of things to come. He can only hope Duo understands that.

“Would I be here if I didn't?” Wufei says, unable to wipe the grin off his own lips so it winds up going lopsided.

Maybe it's not the straight answer Duo deserves, but Wufei can see by the shimmer in his eyes it's understood. Maybe one day he'll tell Duo what it meant to him, too, seeing Duo waiting anxiously at the spaceport, that bouquet in his hands and that stupid, beautiful grin on his face, and Wufei knowing in that same instant it was all for him.

But it wouldn't change much. He's sure Duo already knows.

“But you know what I really want right now?” Wufei purrs as he leans closer to Duo over the arm rest.

“Hmm?”

“For you to drive before this light turns red.”


End file.
